


just be yourself

by miyamura



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (more like mentions of), (to an extent), Gen, M/M, Malnourishment, Nasogastric Tubes, Panic Attacks, Unhealthy diet/exercise routines, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14991125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyamura/pseuds/miyamura
Summary: Written forPromptis Fanweek 2018— Day 2; “I wish I knew what makes you think I’m so special.”Prompto doesn’t know how to take care of himself; thankfully, Noctis has people that know how to help.





	just be yourself

**Author's Note:**

> **please note:** i’m not a doctor, or any level of healthcare professional, and medical information that i’ve outlined within this fic is what i’ve learned through research (which i didn’t have much time to look into); if information is incorrect, please feel free to correct me!

Prompto likes to stick to his routine; he’d strayed from it once and had near instant regret. He has to make sure he does his morning run, take his daily progress picture and eat his breakfast. Then, he takes a shower and gets dressed for school. And his day goes great, because he’s _Prompto Argentum_ , class clown and all around great guy.

After school, Prompto has to work the evening shift at the nearby convenience store; all the while, secretly texting his _friend_ , the _Prince_ , beneath the countertop. They’ll talk late into the night, with the exception of the duration of Prompto’s before bed run, which he goes on after his work shift. He runs to burn off the excitement of another long day. He doesn’t eat a lot for dinner, because he doesn’t feel hungry.

_Even if the growling in his stomach is trying to tell him something entirely different._

He hangs around with the Prince, and they’re best friends. They share homework notes to fill in each other’s gaps in knowledge, and they talk and talk about the latest games and manga and movies; Prompto’s never been happier. He finally has someone to talk to who doesn’t _mind_ talking to him; someone who’s _genuinely_ interested in what Prompto has to say.

And it’s great, he thinks, to feel special.

_Even if, deep down, he doesn’t quite feel like he deserves it._

And, one day, he doesn’t make it that far into his routine before he’s met with complete darkness and a thumping head.

 

* * *

 

It’s with a sharp intake of breath that Prompto becomes vividly aware of something pressing against his windpipe, and he gags. He needs to throw this up. What _this_ is, he doesn’t know, but he needs it _out_ of his throat.

He’s pushing himself up and forcing his eyes open when he feels something else—

Now there’s something up his nose, too; suddenly he feels like he’s _drowning_ , he can’t _breathe_ , _goddammit_!

He’s trying to focus on _breathing_ , but he’s panicking instead, because he _can’t breathe_. Can’t take in a breath, and now, because he’s going to _die_ , he’ll never be able to tell Noct—

A hand on his shoulder, pressing firmly, makes him stop trying to breathe; he peels his eyes away from his hands, which are clenched tightly around his duvet, to look at the source of the pressure. His heart is still beating out of his chest, and he’s still deep in his panic, but Prompto can recognise the slightly blurry outline of Noctis’ advisor.

He’d met him a few weeks previous, but Prompto is still _kind of_ terrified of Ignis. Noct has told him that there’s no need to be scared of _Ignis_ , of all people, but he is. Prompto isn’t sure why, either; he thinks it might stem from the fact that their first meeting was in the arcade, when Noctis was _supposed_ to be attending to his  _Princely Duties_. Prompto didn’t think anyone was capable of a glare so intense.

But now, those same eyes are looking down at him — so full of _concern_ , that Prompto isn’t quite sure what’s happening. Ignis’ brow furrows, and he sits down on the edge of Prompto’s bed.

“Prompto, what’s the last thing you remember?” Ignis asks, voice level.

Prompto makes a noise in the back of his throat, and then he’s fully aware — once again — of the blockage in his throat. His eyes widen, and something in Ignis’ demeanour changes and the advisor clears his throat.

“First of all, you can breathe around that,” he says, indicating to his nose. Prompto copies the action and feels the tape around his nasal septum. He brings up his other hand up to inspect more, without the use of his eyes, and feels a tube; he lets his eyes find Ignis’ once more. “It’s a nasogastric tube; used for those that are malnourished or unable to digest on their own. As you were unconscious, this was the route the medical professional deemed necessary.” Ignis’ _serious_ voice is back, Prompto thinks; he’s being scolded. “You can also _talk_ with it in.”

“Now, now,” another voice chimes in, this one unfamiliar to Prompto. “Leave the poor boy be; he’s to recover. You can tell him off later.” A woman dressed in a medic’s uniform walks to the other side of Prompto’s bed, making a shooing motion towards Ignis with one hand — who slinks back with a sigh — while she presses the other to various different parts of Prompto’s upper body. “Well, you’re feeling, and looking, much better than when I got here.” She’s talking as she’s working now, giving no opening for Prompto to even attempt to join the conversation if he _thought_ he was capable of speaking.

“I’ll tell you, you gave our Prince a right old fright; called His Royal Majesty during a _meeting_ , of all things. The boy’s glad The Immortal was free at the time; I can’t imagine Ignis would have been able to stomach it — he’s got ever such a weak stomach, you know.” She pauses, pressing the diaphragm of a stethoscope around the front and back of Prompto’s chest and listening for a few seconds before she moves to a new location.

“Hm, I’d suggest that this stay in for at least another day or so,” the medic states, indicating to the tube in his nose, “I can’t guarantee you’d be able to keep much of anything down with how many nutrients you were lacking, so it’s better safe than sorry.” She must see something in Prompto’s eyes as he nods, because she continues with a light huff of a laugh. “Not to worry; you’ll get used to it soon. The sensation is off-putting, I’m aware, but this will give you what you need before you can start eating properly again.”

The medic packs up her tools and stands at the foot of Prompto’s bed, telling Ignis the ins and outs of Prompto’s care and what the advisor will need to know. “Now, I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow,” she calls as she heads out of the door of Prompto’s bedroom. “And, _Prince Noctis_ — I expect you to _attend_ school tomorrow; should you not, I’ll inform His Majesty myself!”

And that— _that_ gets both Prompto _and_ Ignis.

Noctis appears from a room off to the side, which Prompto registers as his bathroom, cursing the _old bat_ that just left. Ignis makes a startled sound in the back of his throat, catching the Prince by the wrist and pulling him back the way he came and closing Prompto’s bedroom door behind him, leaving Prompto slightly dumbfounded, staring at the door with words caught in his throat.

 

* * *

 

Prompto isn’t sure how long passes until he’s blessed with the presence of another; the clock on his wall had stopped working months ago, and he isn’t sure where his phone ended up. After however-long, Noctis opens the door and slides in the room quietly, as though he expects Prompto to be asleep. Instead, after he closes the door behind him, his eyes find Prompto’s.

There’s silence for a few beats — it’s never an awkward silence between them — and then Prompto cracks a smile. A cheeky grin. And Noctis’ face scrunches up, and Prompto thinks he looks heartbroken.

“Prompto… You’re an _idiot_.” Noctis whispers, his voice breaking.

Prompto grimaces, “I know.”

“I’ve told you before… To just… To _ask me_ if you need help…” Noctis is clenching his fists at his sides now, and Prompto’s stomach is starting to do somersaults.

“Sorry, Noct.”

He hears Noctis inhale a shaky breath as he walks over to the side of Prompto’s bed, taking up the space Ignis had previously occupied.

“Ignis went back to the Citadel, for now. I promised him I’d call him if I thought there was an emergency,” Noctis says, absentmindedly, as he takes a hold of one of Prompto’s hands and starts tracing over it with a finger. Prompto wants to make a joke— wants to say “ _like when you called your **dad** during a meeting?_ ”, but he doesn’t think it’ll go down well right now, so he just nods and makes a noise of acknowledgment.

“You know…” Prompto tries, and then pauses when he hears how rough his voice sounds. Noctis puts pressure on his hand — reassurance in the way Noct knows how — so he tries again. “I didn’t think I was doing bad.” He flicks his eyes over to his companion and is greeted with a flat, emotionless look.

Noctis scoffs, “Prompto, the cupboards are _empty_ ; Ignis found a cobweb. He found _spiders_.”

Prompto manages a sheepish smile, only to find one of Noctis’ hands placed firmly over his mouth, the other firmly gripping Prompto’s.

“ _Stop doing that_.” Noctis hisses, his eyes pulled together in annoyance. “Stop forcing yourself!”

Prompto’s eyes widen, and he feels a heat behind his eyes that he wants _gone_. The hand on Prompto’s mouth trails to the back of his neck, and suddenly Noctis brings their foreheads together. Prompto wonders when he got so close.

“I was just… Worried as _heck_! I called _my dad_ , of all people, because I didn’t know what to do!”

Prompto breathes out, lifting his free hand to cup Noctis’ right cheek.

“I wish I knew what makes you think I’m so special,” Prompto murmurs, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Looking back, Prompto thinks this would have taken them _somewhere else_ , had he not got a tube in his nose. He pulls back to cough at the uncomfortable feeling, still trying not to gag at the strange sensation.

“Idiot,” Noctis says fondly, pulling him into a hug and resting his chin on Prompto’s shoulder, “you’re special just by being yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy... i've not posted anything online since like... 2011. so i'm pretty terrified of posting this, especially since i'm not used to writing or posting _anything_ shorter than 5k words...
> 
> i have uh... a [tumblr](https://instantroxas.tumblr.com/), and [twitter](https://twitter.com/setagawas)!!


End file.
